mirageA Poem by cricketexhausted
i need a place to lay my head
every bed is made of nails i couldn’t rest if i tried i don’t know how much longer i can walk when my legs give out will you be the last thing i see, my beautiful mirage? © 2022 cricketAuthor's Note
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Added on May 1, 2022 Last Updated on May 1, 2022 |

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